


To Disturb the Universe

by dosporcuatro



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Allergies, Angst, Bad Flirting, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Science, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hope, Past Kaidan Alenko/Commander Shepard, Post-Horizon (Mass Effect), Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4988737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dosporcuatro/pseuds/dosporcuatro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The galaxy seems to be on a set course, and a new cycle of total destruction is beginning.<br/>To stop it, Shepard must give everything she is. But life gets in the way, hope happens, and suddenly she has a lot to lose. </p><p>***<br/>Somewhat AU rewriting of the Shakarian relationship, starting just after Horizon and ending after the events of ME3. Estimated length is of about 15-20 chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Traitor

**Author's Note:**

> *disclaimer* Of course, I don't own any of these characters. Bioware is to thank/blame for them :)

“Joker, send the shuttle to pick us up. I’ve had enough of this colony,” Shepard said into her comm as she watched Kaidan walk away. 

He had called her a legend and a traitor in the span of a few minutes. He clearly hadn’t been thinking straight, he hadn’t even listened to her. And she couldn’t blame him. At first she had thought it was the shock and frustration of not being able to stop the Collectors. Or maybe it was that signature Kaidan thickness, his inability to think outside his Alliance-issued box, that didn’t let him see reason. But then he said it _. I loved you._ And she couldn’t argue with him anymore.

Even during the shuttle ride back to the Normandy, while Miranda was spewing venom against Kaidan as if she had been the insulted one —maybe she had been, in a way; Shepard couldn’t care less— she couldn’t bring herself to feel any anger against him; all her anger was firmly directed toward herself. _You betrayed me._ He was very right.

Garrus fixed his inscrutable C-Sec gaze on her and said nothing. She was grateful for that. Whatever her friend was thinking about her, whatever he was gathering from her body language, she didn’t want to know. Not right now. What would he think of her if he knew?  Maybe he already did. His instincts were better than anyone else’s aboard the ship; second, perhaps, to hers alone.

She looked up at him, while Miranda kept talking, and gave him the ghost of a smile. Not a deliberate gesture but a reflex, one she couldn’t seem to hold back these days. Not since the moment he had strutted into the comm room, his swagger a little off, wearing that huge, ridiculous bandage on his face. Anything, no matter how disheartening, was made better by the fact that her turian was alive and by her side. That he still trusted her. He smiled back at her, or rather made that combination of mandible flicker and almost inaudible subvocal hum that she had come to find so comforting.

“Vakarian,” she said in her Commander voice, a few moments after Miranda finally shut up, lest they ended up having a _moment_ right there.

“Shepard.” Something in his voice sounded soothing, but she didn’t know what it was, or whether he was doing it deliberately. Maybe it was just the sound of _him_ , saying _her_ name.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you catch that bullet with your left shin plate after you downed the last sniper. You’re taking your scaly ass to the med bay the moment we hit the Normandy.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And Lawson,” she finally turned to look at Miranda by her side.

“Commander,” Miranda replied, still flushed by anger, but quickly retreating back to her pageant-queen poise.

“Keep Alenko out of your report. He is none of Cerberus’ business, alright?”

“Yes, Commander.”

 

Xx

Garrus sat on a bed in the med bay while Dr Chakwas tended to his leg. The doctor seemed more preoccupied than she should be while attending to what was almost a flesh wound.

 “Doctor?” he asked, growing worried himself.

“Yes, Garrus?” she replied, still engrossed in her work.

“Is anything the matter?”

“Well, I don’t know, Garrus, is there?”

“I… you’re the one with the suture kit.”

She finally looked up at him, with a look of exasperation on her face he had never seen before.

“It so happens that _Joker_ was kind enough to tell me that you met Alenko down in Horizon. Why he is not aboard the Normandy right now, why nobody is talking about him, I simply can’t imagine.”

Garrus clicked his mandibles and looked at the floor. He knew that Chakwas had been looking after Alenko for years, and it was obvious she cared about him. He was embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, Doctor. He’s alright. In one piece, at least. Still Alliance, promoted to Staff Commander, still a hard-headed idiot.”

“Garrus.” She would have sounded admonishing, but she wasn’t really trying, and she only sounded tired.

“I won’t pretend to like him, but I am glad he’s alive. For Shepard’s sake and yours. But he won’t be alive much longer if he treats her that way in front of me again.”

“What did he do?” she asked, surprised.

“He basically accused Shepard of being a Cerberus puppet and a traitor. And from the way she looked back on the shuttle, I’d say she bought into it.”

“Well. Thank you for filling me in.” She stood up, and flicked her omni-tool off. “You’re good to go. But take it easy for the next couple of days. I’m sure the Commander can spare you for one mission.”

Garrus tilted his head at her and lifted a brow plate, evidently amused.

“…who am I kidding,” she said in a whisper, shaking her head as she retreated back to her desk. “Here, Vakarian.” She handed him a clear bottle, almost full with a light amber liquid. “Take this up to the Commander. Tell her it’s doctor-prescribed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said with a quick nod, picking up the bottle, and left.

 

Xx

Shepard took her armor off carefully, not knowing exactly the amount of damage she had taken. Her new cybernetics had changed the way her body responded to pain, the way it healed after a battle, and she wasn’t used to it yet. She was glad to find she was only slightly bruised at the hip, and as she stood under the hot spray of the shower she thought she was okay. She washed the Collector muck carefully off her face and hair, let the water warm her up as best it could. That was another side effect of dying: she was always a bit cold, no matter how much armor she wore or how many thermal blankets she threw on at night; it was a persistent cold that radiated from within her own bones.

She let her thoughts wander back to Kaidan. She could remember every word he had said. (Another enhancement, courtesy of Cerberus? She couldn’t tell, at this point, which parts of her were actually _hers.)_

_You betrayed me._

_Yes Kaidan_ , she thought, _I did._

_I’m so sorry._

She turned the shower off and grabbed a towel. She looked up at herself in the mirror, and took her free hand to her face. Those scars were like nothing she had seen on a living thing before. Well, maybe on a husk.

But she couldn’t blame this on Cerberus. She had betrayed Kaidan long before Cerberus got their hands on her and made her into _that thing_. And Kaidan probably sensed it, and used Cerberus as a way out, a way to rationalize what hurt him the most.

_Yep, I was ugly before this. They just made it show._

“Commander,” She heard EDI’s polite voice coming from her ear-comm.

“Yes, EDI.”

“Officer Vakarian is outside your door. I have told him you are not available, but he said he will wait. Should I insist?”

“Yes, EDI. Tell him I need to get some rest,” she said, absent-mindedly, still looking at her face in the mirror.

“Commander.”

“Yes, EDI,” she replied, more wearily than she wanted to sound.

“Officer Vakarian is hacking my systems. He will be inside your quarters in… I miscalculated. He has overridden the lock, and is stepping ins-

“Shepard?” She heard Garrus’s voice outside the bathroom. “I brought you some medicine from Doctor Chakwas.” Now she heard the clinking of glass. “I will close my eyes until you’re decent, but I need to stay here and make sure you take the medicine, or the doctor will be cross. Nobody wants that.”

Medicine? She had taken no injuries during the fight. What the hell could Garrus be on about? She threw on a tunic that hanged from a hook in the bathroom, which covered her up to mid-thigh, and stepped out. Garrus had seen her wearing way less than that the few times they had met up to work out together in the Cargo Bay.

“What are you talking about, Garrus? You know I wasn’t hit,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall across from him.

He walked slowly down the stairs and settled on the couch. “Come on, Shepard. Doctor’s orders.”

She followed him, and finally saw the bottles on the table. One was a sort of dextro wine she knew Garrus liked to stock up on whenever they hit the Citadel, the other was the bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy she had got for Chakwas a week before. There wasn’t much of it missing, and Shepard couldn’t help but feel sorry that Adams wasn’t around to share a few drinks with the doctor anymore.

“So Chakwas put you up to this?”

“Do you think she would willingly part with that bottle? I would be lying down in the med bay missing some very important body parts if I had tried to steal it from her.”

“True,” she replied with a smile. “Okay, pour a drink. I’ll be right back,” she said, and grabbed some clothes from her dresser. She went back to the bathroom to get changed, and when she came back, wearing black leggings and an N7 hoodie, there was a beautiful glass of brandy shimmering at her on the table.

Garrus was spread out on the sofa. She hadn’t seen him out of his armor in years (which felt like months to her), and he looked a lot skinnier than she remembered. She made a mental note to make sure they were as well-stocked on dextro food supplies as she had thought, just in case. She sat next to him, grabbed her glass, and lifted it up to eye level. Garrus did the same.

“To Doctor Chakwas,” she said

“To good friends,” he said, and they both drank.

 

Xx

Garrus had a talent for conversation that she had never found on anyone else. He could tell real stories seasoned with the right amount of lies to make any old story sound like the adventure of a lifetime. She loved listening to him, especially when she knew he was talking only so she wouldn’t have to. They laughed, and had another drink. She forgot to listen for a moment, and just felt grateful for him. No matter whether she deserved it or not, she had him back. No matter how selfish it made her feel…

“Shepard…” He tilted his head, trying to get her attention back.

“Sorry, Garrus.” She shook her head.

“You need to stop.”

“Stop what?” She fake-laughed, looking at her glass, actually worried that he might be doing that thing again, the thing with the eyes that look right into her.

“You need to stop blaming yourself. Alenko is a grown man, and he made his own choice.”

“What are you talking about, Garrus?” He couldn’t know, she thought. C-Sec interrogation skills —Oh God, had this been an interrogation?— were one thing and mind-reading was quite another.

“He chose not to follow you. You probably think you could have made him see reason but —” he clicked his mandibles— “dammit, Shepard, your charm can only work so far. You think you can convince anyone to do almost anything, and spirits, you’d be right most of the time. But not now.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his hands clasped together. He looked intently at her, and shook his head. Then he spoke softly. “Alenko had his mind made up a long time before we showed up. There was nothing you could have said.”

She felt a knot on her throat. He didn’t know, and yet he had got it so right. She looked down at her drink again, and left it on the table. Maybe this was what Karin was hoping for, that she would loosen up and _finally talk to someone_.  But Garrus wasn’t just someone… yet if she told him, and lost his respect, well… that would be the exact punishment she deserved. Maybe then she could forget about Alenko and move the fuck on.

“You’re right, Garrus. He had his mind all made up. He had a whole two years to think about us, and he finally saw me for what I am.”

He only tilted his head, waiting to hear more.

“I did betray him, Garrus. Long before Cerberus.” She inhaled slowly. “He said he loved me, remember?”

“Yes… I always knew he had a thing for you, but honestly, who didn’t?”

“No, Garrus, it was more than that. I… I seduced him shortly before Ilos. I drew him to my bed, and I took everything I wanted from him. I _used_ him. Betrayed him and everyone else on my crew. Commanders have had their stripes taken for a lot less than what I did.”

Garrus still looked at her, attentively, but she couldn’t imagine what else he wanted her to say. She took the glass, and finished what little was left. She stood up.

“I’ll take the bottle back to Chakwas in the morning. You must be tired, Garrus.”

“ _I’ll_ take the bottle, Shepard. Sit down a moment, please. Help me understand.”

She sat back down, surprised. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

“I… I am not familiar with human sexual behavior, so you must bear with me.” He looked worried, as if she were a particularly important door he needed to hack, without breaking the lock. “He wanted you, and he got to sleep with you… and you think you did wrong by him?”

“It’s not like that, Garrus.” She took a deep breath. “He didn’t just want to sleep with me; it meant more to him than that. You heard it yourself today, he _loved_ me.”

“And you didn’t feel the same way for him.”

“Not even close. But I see how he might have got the wrong idea, I was always attentive with h—”

“Shepard,” Garrus interrupted, “you were always attentive with everyone. That’s just who you are.”

She shook her head. “I led him on. And then I took advantage of him.” She buried her head in her hands for a moment. “I’m disgusting. I used a subordinate for sex because I wanted to and I _could_.”

She felt the slight pressure of Garrus’s hand on her shoulder.

“Well, you do have pyjak feet, but I think _disgusting_ is taking it a bit too far.” He gave her a light squeeze, and retreated back. She still couldn’t bring herself to look back at him.

“Now, explain something to me,” he added, and that made her look back. She nodded. “Did he tell you exactly what it was he wanted from you? Before you slept together, I mean?”

“No. I never gave him the—

“So no. And you humans don’t have a very strict protocol on sexual relationships, do you?”

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“You see, turians live by very strict rules. Even casual sex has to be agreed on before we can begin. Nobody gets confused, and nobody gets hurt. Unless, of course, _that_ part is agreed on beforehand as well.”

She tilted her head with a smirk, neither of them noticing that she had picked up that very gesture from him.

He continued, glad to see her lighten up. “But you humans don’t do that, right?”

“Nope,” she said, “we just do the thing and then hope we’re on the same page. Sounds stupid when you say it, but the race hasn’t died out yet.”

“Then I suppose it’s fair to say that Alenko had as much reason to believe you were looking for a relationship as you did to believe he was okay with just sex. Even less, since the sex part was the only one that was obvious.”

“M...Maybe? But I should have asked him what he wanted.”

“Why? You’re not the one claiming love. If he was as much in love as he says he was, shouldn’t he have thought about what _you_ wanted, too? He was only thinking of himself, and that’s one sorry excuse for love, if you ask me.”

“I suppose you’re right. We were both being selfish…” She felt strangely relieved. Maybe she could let Kaidan get away with hating her, without having to hate herself too.  “I… hadn’t thought about it that way, Garrus. Thank you.”

“Well, Shepard, you can’t blame yourself for that, too, I mean, with my superior senses and intelligence…

“Oh, shut up, you oversized space lizard.”

They both laughed quietly. She got up again. “So you don’t think any less of me for this?” She tried to sound casual, but there was hope left lingering in the air.

“Oh, but I do,” he said, getting up. He closed in, towering over her, one bottle in each hand. “Sleeping with Alenko? Really? You could do a lot better than that.”

She would never admit it, but her jaw dropped a little bit. His mandibles flared in a wide, turian smile.

“Sleep well, Shepard,” he said with a low rumble, and walked out, his swagger all but recovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this fic is a reference to my favorite poem, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, by T. S. Eliot.  
>  
> 
> Huge thanks to Rivie, Nikki and Jackie for their help and support!  
> And thank you for reading this! :)


	2. Dream

 

Garrus made his way back to the main battery, barely noticing the Normandy around him. _Did I just flirt with Shepard?_ Maybe he had hit his head really hard somewhere in Horizon and he just didn’t remember. _What was I thinking?_ He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, not ever, and especially not after the day she had just had. If there was ever a moment for him to address his feelings for her, that wasn’t it. He could only hope she hadn’t taken it seriously, because he could tell —from the interruption in her breathing, from her raised cardiac rhythm— that she had noticed.

The battery doors closed behind him, and he went straight for his bunk, not even looking at the console. He stripped down to his underwear and laid down, hoping sleep would come soon and this day would be over. He closed his eyes, but sleep didn’t come.

_Clumsy human fingers running over Shepard’s collarbones_. He opened his eyes, feeling his stomach churn. He had to sit up, but he made the mistake of closing his eyes again _. Alenko’s hand grabbing hard on her waist._ Oh no. This wasn’t going to work. He got out of bed and walked toward his weapons desk, thinking that maybe, if he worked for a few hours, he would be too exhausted for his brain to play these stupid games with him. He took his Mantis rifle, which had seen some action earlier that day, and started pulling it apart like he had done a thousand times before. The steady, mechanical movement of his hands working with precision over the metal parts soothed him gradually, until his mind was clear of any distractions. But after a few moments the rifle was clean and calibrated in his hands, and he was idle; now he didn’t even need to close his eyes, he could see it before him, clear as day.  _Alenko’s tongue tasting her neck, followed by his teeth biting down hard. Shepard moaning in pleasure and pain_.

He felt a sharp pain on his right knee, radiating all over his leg. Confused and trying not to swear too loud, he stumbled down over some crates to rub his leg, and then he noticed his left hand was holding half a Mantis rifle. Still in pain, he looked around and found the other half was lying on the floor, behind the console.

He checked again, and assured himself that his knee wasn’t broken.

He definitely needed a new rifle, though.

 

Xx

 

The next day, at 0755, Shepard was down at the main battery, checking on Garrus like she did every day when they were not on a mission. She always left him for last whenever she went on her rounds; she had done so ever since their days aboard the SR1. Back then, she would sometimes stay a little longer than necessary, making him laugh with stories from her days in N-school while he repaired the damage she had inflicted on the Mako —dammit, she missed the Mako. It pained her to remember that it was scattered in pieces on the surface of some planet, along with the Normandy, some of her crew, _herself_ — Lately, it was harder to make either of them laugh, but still she stayed, sometimes to talk, sometimes in comfortable silence.

This time she was running the details of their next mission by him: the Illusive Man had been kind enough to forward Tali’s dossier earlier that morning. Apparently, she was holed up with a small squad in Haestrom —a former quarian colony world deep in geth space, where the sun was radioactive enough to roast a turian. So, that was where they were headed.

 “Yeah, that’s a great idea, Shepard, what could possibly go wrong with that plan?” he asked with a wide turian grin.

“Mmhm, I know, sounds like trouble. We should totally not go. I’ll tell Joker to take us to fucking Ilium instead.”

They both let out a loud chuckle, and she turned toward the mess. But she didn’t make it out the battery; instead she stopped sharp, looking at the weapons desk. There was something missing. Something that had never been missing, for as long as she had known Garrus.

“Something else you need, Shepard?” he asked.

“Where’s your Mantis?” she asked back, overplaying her concern.

“Oh, er…” He was visibly uncomfortable, his mandibles fluttering about. “I lost it. Needed a new one, anyways. There’s a new Black Widow that—

“Yeah, right. I’m pretty sure you can’t afford a Black Widow,” she said smiling, leaning on the wall with her arms crossed. There was an idea of what had happened forming in her head, and she liked it.

“Well, I’m pretty sure _you_ can,” he said, gesturing casually with one hand. “Being a Spectre and all…”

“You know what, if you’re a really good turian, maybe for your birthday,” she replied playfully.

“You know I’m a bad turian…” he replied, with a low rumble of his subvocals. There were a few times when she wished she had a better ear for turian vocalization. Was he simply returning her playfulness? Or was it a designed, careful attack, aimed at that part of her that shook when she heard him make that sound?

They both stayed silent for a few moments, staring at each other. Her arms were still crossed… yet she wore a different expression on her face. She bit down slightly on her lower lip. She had made a decision: If Vakarian was attacking, she would retaliate.

“What the _fuck_ did you _do_ to that rifle?” she asked slowly, with a raised eyebrow and a wicked smile.

He opened and closed his mouth several times, and Shepard could swear she heard a faint dual-toned whimper. She stared him down for a few seconds, enjoying herself.

 “Be ready by 1200,” she said, briefly back to her business-as-usual Commander Shepard tone, before she lowered it to a more _suggestive_ tone: “…and if you get bored in the meantime, I’ve got something you can calibrate...” She delivered that last line slowly, biting her lip again while Garrus half choked, half coughed. “I never use my sniper rifle, anyways. You can pick it up at the armory.” She walked out with no real rush, brimming with satisfaction as the doors closed behind her.

 

xx

He closed his eyes, supporting himself with his hands on either side of the console, trying to steady his breath. Okay, this was happening. Whatever he had started the previous night, she wasn’t uncomfortable with it… instead she was relaxed, teasing him, smiling. If it was good for her in any way, if there was even a chance that he could make her happy, he wouldn’t back down for any number of Reapers in the galaxy. Certainly not for Kaidan Alenko.

He wouldn’t give that man another thought. So what if he had spent a few hours in Shepard’s bed? What a ridiculous thing to lose sleep over. It was not Alenko but Vakarian who she wanted on her six. He was the one she trusted completely. He was the one who could make her smile that way, sincere and alive, filling him with hope. And to Garrus, this was enough, this was _everything_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a much shorter chapter, but the next one is coming soon! thanks for reading <3


	3. Cracks in the Armor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will have a bit of fake science going on. I have no clue about real science, so... sorry about that :)  
> Hope you enjoy it!

There were a few things that Shepard was genuinely grateful to Cerberus for, and having Tali safely aboard her ship was one of them. For as important a member of quarian society as Tali was, they sure as hell hadn’t been too zealous with her life, sending her to a god forsaken, radioactive planet that was, for good measure, crawling with geth. Having the young quarian at hand was, of course, an important asset to the mission; but to Shepard, personally, it was a gift.

She gave Tali some space while she knew she was grieving. Only one member of Tali’s team had survived: a valuable man, from what Shepard had gathered, but still only one. Shepard knew, better than most people, what it was like to feel responsible for so much loss; she knew how it sat on a heart to be alive when _they weren’t_ and _she shouldn’t be either_.

So, during the days immediately following Tali’s rescue, Shepard tried to make things better; that was her unofficial job description after all. She checked on the dextro food supplies (they had been well-stocked after all, which left her even more worried about Garrus's health) and tried to provide Tali with plenty of exciting work, or at least, work that Shepard thought might be exciting for a genius quarian machinist. They were heading to the Citadel now, to pick up some more upgrades for the ship before moving on to Tuchanka —every respectable Alliance Commander knew to take a few sensible precautions before approaching Krogan space.

“Any news, Tali?” Shepard asked cheerfully as she stepped into Engineering.

“Oh, hello, Shepard,” Tali answered quickly, “All engines are running at top capacity, but maybe if this FTL overflow display would stop rebooting, see, I’m trying to integrate some of my old software parameters to…”

“Tali… We’ve talked about this…” Shepard said with an exaggerated tone of disapproval, hands on her hips

 “Oh. Sorry.” Tali stopped quickly, and let a faint chuckle escape from within the purple helmet, followed by a sigh. “ _Keelah_ , Shepard,” she added vehemently, “this ship is even more advanced than the original Normandy!”

“I agree, and you haven’t even seen the fish tank yet,” Shepard replied with a grin.

Tali gasped and grabbed Shepard’s arm. “There-is-a-fish-tank?” she asked in a half-whisper, eyes sparkling wide.

“Oh yes! Would you like to see it? It’s in my cabin. You won’t like my cabin, though; it’s ridiculously huge.”

“Let’s go!” Tali pressed a couple of buttons on her console and a screen powered down. “I can’t believe you didn’t mention the fish-” A ping from Shepard’s omni-tool interrupted Tali mid-sentence.

“I’m sorry...”Shepard said with a frown, while she opened the interface. “I have it set for urgent messages only.” She read the one that had just popped up, and was almost out the door before she turned to Tali again. “Can you go ahead without me? This shouldn’t take very long. I can meet you there in a few minutes.”

“Don’t worry, Shepard…” Tali turned around to flick one last switch. “I’ll be playing with the fish.”

“You don’t play with…” Shepard stopped, and shook her head. “I have to go.”

 

Xx

When she received Garrus’s message, she knew exactly what it was about. It wasn’t usual for him to send her messages at all, so this could be only about one thing: he had to have a solid lead on Sidonis.

Nothing could have prepared her, though, for the change in demeanor she observed in Garrus once she got to the battery. There was no trace of the warmth he had been showing her the past few days; instead, he was only ice and focused hatred and walls. The conversation was over almost as soon as it had started. She hadn’t meant to storm out of the battery like that, but she couldn’t bear to watch him unravel. As she strode blindly through the mess, she felt hopelessness closing in like a shroud.

The elevator doors closed behind her, and she punched —literally, punched— the control to make it go up to her cabin. That was Garrus, she thought with a bitter ache settling inside her chest; that vengeful ghost of a man was her best friend, her… Why hadn’t she helped him sooner? Did she really think that by giving him plenty of things to shoot he would simply work out his issues? Now it was too late, it was out of her hands. And what was worse, she couldn’t refuse to help him carry out his plan, not really, or she would lose him completely.

The elevator stopped, and she rushed into her cabin. She was already halfway inside when she noticed that Tali was standing in front of the fish tank, looking at her.

“Shepard, are you… are you alright?” Her concern was clear and profound.

“Uh, yes, Tali, don’t worry,” Shepard said shaking her head. Still, she sat on the sofa and curled into a ball, hiding her head in her arms.

Tali sat next to her. “The fish are beautiful, Shepard,” she said softly, as she placed a hand on Shepard’s shoulder. “Maybe we should get a few more.”

Shepard slowly unfurled and looked up at Tali, suddenly realizing she was making the same mistake with her, leaving her to process her pain alone, failing her friends one at a time.

“You’re right, they do look a little lonely,” she answered with a half-smile.

Tali squeezed Shepard’s shoulder for a moment, and then let her go. Shepard was grateful for the brevity of the gesture, because the tight knot on her throat had been very close to bursting open with Tali’s unexpected display of affection.

“Shepard,” the quarian said in a sad voice, “I have been meaning to talk to you.”

“What about, Tali?” Shepard asked, eager to be asked for some form of help —which she would gladly give.

“I just… I spoke to Kal—Kal’Reegar a couple of days ago, he is much better, clear for duty…”

“That is wonderful news!” said Shepard, genuinely delighted.

“I know, and it’s all thanks to you. I haven’t… I haven’t had the time to properly thank you, Shepard.” Tali looked straight into Shepard’s eyes, her gaze glowing intensely. “Kal told me that you wouldn’t let him help against the geth, that you… Keelah, Shepard, you took the Colossus down on your own? _With biotics?_ ”

“ _That’s_ what Reegar said?” Shepard couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head, incredulous. “Tali, I _distracted_ the Colossus with biotics. Garrus and Miranda took it down, actually. Your friend was probably running a beast of a fever; I’m just glad he listened to me and didn’t actually fire that missile launcher.”

Tali tilted her head, and Shepard could see her blinking repeatedly. “That’s still…” she took a deep breath, and continued: “Shepard, once I could speak to you and ask you to keep Kal alive, I simply _knew_ I wasn’t going to lose him there. You... you are the best of friends and the most outstanding Commander anyone could ask for.” Tali looked at her own hands, her voice softened. “Thank you. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this sooner… But Shepard, you can count on me. For anything at all, not just Reaper bosh’tet things.” She took one of Shepard’s hands in both of hers, and looked straight into her eyes again. “I am here for you.”

Shepard pulled Tali in for a tight hug, not really caring if it made both of them cry. She felt so fortunate to have her, and most of all she felt relieved that Tali was doing better than she thought; Reegar must have been even more important to her friend than she had anticipated, and this was an unexpected blessing.

“Okay, Tali,” she said, while breaking the hug and wiping her eyes, “I actually need your help with something.”

“Oh?” Tali cleared her throat. “Sure, what is it?”

“It’s Garrus. He’s got a lead about Sidonis, and he wants me to help find him at the Citadel after we dock.”

“Hhmm. That can’t be good”

“I hear you. And you haven’t seen Garrus. He’s…” Shepard frowned and rubbed a temple with her hand. “I know he went through hell this past couple of years, and especially when his squad died— got murdered. But I just hoped…”

“You hoped…”

“It’s stupid, Tali, but I hoped once he was with us, in the Normandy—

“You mean with you,” Tali said in a knowing tone that threw Shepard off-balance.

“Eh?”

“Shepard.”

“I…” Shepard huffed. “Okay, okay, yes. I can’t explain it, Tali, I—

“You don’t have to. I noticed after you rescued me, I… I guess I’ve become more sensitive to that kind of thing in the past two years.” Tali’s tone was sad and pensive. Shepard couldn’t help but wonder about her and Reegar, how things had started, if they were still together…

“Whenever you want to talk about it…” she said, earnestly.

“I know. But we’re okay now. It’s a story for another time… when there are no collectors to fight, and lots of drinks at hand.”

“Okay.”

“So, how can I help you with Garrus?” Tali asked.

Shepard paused to think for a moment.

“I need you to come with us when we dock at the Citadel. I know he trusts you. He will appreciate you being there.” She looked at the floor, and breathed deeply. “And I hope if it’s the three of us, he’ll remember himself a bit. There’s too much Archangel there, and I miss Garrus.”

Tali stared at the bluish light of the fish tank that reflected on the surface of the table.  “Are you sure about this?”

Shepard sighed. “No, I’m not.”

“Okay then,” said Tali. “Right behind you, Shepard. As always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far, and for your kudos and comments! <3  
> I want to leave a shout out here to Rivie, who is awesome and also proofreads all my things. Thanks!


	4. Wreckage

“Got a minute, Garrus?” Shepard asked as she approached the battery. After the Sidonis disaster a few weeks ago, she still tried to check on him every morning. But each time, he brushed her off with a lazy excuse.

“Can it wait? I’m in the middle of some calibrations,” he said, without turning his gaze from his console. He had said he didn’t want to talk about it. But in fact, they never talked at all.

She had hoped this time would be different. She needed it to be.

She stared at Garrus’s back for a moment. Her jaw tightened, her breath paused. But again she turned around, and walked briskly away. There was work to do. Alone, it would seem.

 

 

Xx

 

He could feel her stare piercing hot through his armor. He wanted to meet her eyes with burning ones of his own, but he didn’t have the nerve. He thought of something to say, but the words died in his mouth, and only a faint subvocal whisper escaped —thankfully, in a frequency he knew to be inaudible to humans. She walked away without another word, while he clenched his hands on the console.

He worked all day, with the comforting vibration of the Normandy’s engines under his feet. He knew they were going somewhere, but he hadn’t been briefed. He guessed he was not on the ground team for this one. Again.

It was the beginning of the night cycle, and he heard Tali’s voice coming from his ear comm.

“Garrus?” She asked. “Where are you?” Her words were fast and hushed, as if she didn’t want to be overheard.

“I’m on Palaven, Tali, having drinks with the Primarch. How about you?” he replied absent-mindedly, still typing algorithms.

“I’m serious, you Bosh’tet. Are you in the battery?”

Garrus looked away from the console. “You know, there is a perfectly functional A.I. installed in the Normandy, who I’m sure would gladly tell you my whereabouts at any given—

“GARRUS!” she whisper-shouted.

“Okay, okay!” He was interested now. “I’m in the battery. What’s going on?”

“Meet me in the shuttle bay in 7 minutes. Bring your gear. And don’t be late.”                                      

Garrus obeyed, mostly out of curiosity, and quickly started picking up his weapons. Tali was not, by any account, a boring kid. But she had never seemed to be quite so distinctly _up to something_.

 

 

Xx

 

Garrus got to the shuttle bay with a minute to spare. Tali was already there, leaning on the shuttle door, next to a medium-sized crate.

“Good. You’re here,” she said, quickly straightening up. “We won’t be at the drop point for another 15 minutes, which means Shepard will be here in around 10—

“Tali, wait,” he interrupted. “What’s going on? What are we doing here?” he asked, his mandibles tight. He could sense that something was wrong, something not as evident as a gunship aiming at his face. He liked this feeling even worse.

“We’re hauling this crate into the shuttle. Give me a hand.” Tali gestured towards the box, but Garrus picked it up, not without effort. It was marked Alliance, with no other indication of what was inside.

Tali pushed the shuttle door open, and Garrus placed the crate, securing it within the space designated for cargo. Then he turned back to Tali.

“Did you bring me here to move a box?” He was growing exasperated, rubbing his brow plates with his hand. “Because, you know, Tali, I was really getting somewhere with those firing al—

“Shut up, Garrus. You’re driving the shuttle,” she said as she hopped back down into the bay.

“What? Why? I think there is Cerberus crew for that?” He was not certain, at this point, if Tali was only pulling his leg, or she had finally lost it completely.

“I ordered them off,” she said, waving her hand. She took a deep breath, and looked up at Garrus, her face as meaningful as her helmet would allow. “There is no way a Cerberus shuttle pilot will be the one to land Shepard in Alchera. In the place where she…” Her voice caught in her throat. “Where the Normandy crashed.”

Garrus felt his heart sink to his feet, then scatter on the floor.

Alchera. He had heard the name of the planet they were heading to, but he hadn’t thought anything of it. It was a little back-end planet, in the middle of nowhere. And there it was, below him, the Normandy’s crash site… Maybe that was what she wanted that morning? Was she going to ask him to go with her?

 And he would have let her go alone.

Tali gave her omni-tool a quick glance. “Go on, Garrus,” she said, gesturing him further inside “Settle in, she’ll be here any minute now.”

“Why aren’t you coming?” he asked with what voice he had left, steadying himself, with one hand firmly holding the shuttle door.

“I can’t,” she said, softening her tone. “Someone has to stay with Joker.”

 

 

Xx

 

As Shepard entered the shuttle, she felt a wave of nostalgia hit her hard. The smell inside reminded her of the SR1, of less complicated times, when she had a dear friend who trusted her and a mission that wasn’t most likely to result in her death. She sat down and waited for the pilot to take off before inhaling deeply a few times; focusing back on the task at hand, she examined the crate. It was the one the Alliance had delivered when they were docked at the Citadel that last time, when she had tried to help Garrus, when she _had_ helped Garrus…

 _Garrus_. She would know that smell anywhere.

She jumped off her seat and started toward the cockpit; sure enough, he was there, quietly flying the shuttle as if it had always been his job. Her heart started racing, and it was a moment before she could speak.

“What happened to Friedricks?” she asked, as casually as she could manage.

“Unavailable. He had orders to clean up your hamster’s cage,” he replied. The tone of his voice was comforting again, and Shepard had no difficulty understanding what was going on. Garrus knew. He was there for her. Even after what she had done.

She took the copilot’s seat, just in time before they began to near the crash site. Garrus marked a landing area in a clear zone near the debris, and as they approached, the white-on-black letters on the hull of the SR1 —what was left of it— became visible amidst a sea of white. Shepard felt a warm, gloved hand closing in around her own. She held on to it, tight, as if she were holding on to whatever life and blood she had left in her.

The shuttle landed, and they both fell silent.

 

Xx

 

Garrus kept her hand firmly clutched within his. His eyes were fixed ahead and out the window, but he was keeping track of her racing heartbeat, her shallow breaths. He said nothing, but from his throat came a steady, vibrating hum that pervaded the small space of the shuttle. In time, Shepard’s pulse slowed down, and then he finally looked at her. She wasn’t meeting his gaze, and he could see how her lips trembled.

“Shepard. I’m sorry,” he said, almost in a whisper.

She looked up at him, but he continued before she could say anything. 

“What do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice steady as a mountain.

Shepard nodded briskly, and got up from her seat. She began to open up the crate they had brought with them, and Garrus looked on, his head tilted to the side. He had been wondering what was inside the box.

“This is an Alliance beacon,” Shepard began, lifting the device over her shoulder.” I’m supposed to place it somewhere around here, and an Alliance team will home in on the signal later and build a memorial there.”

It was an elegant, bronze-colored beacon, in the shape of an upward wave.

“We’ll be on the lookout,” she added. “See if there’s anything we can bring back…” She cleared her throat

“For the families,” said Garrus, softly. He secured his helmet and waited for her signal; once she was ready, he opened the shuttle door, and they stepped out into the cold, stormy surface of Alchera.

He hadn’t forgotten what she had done at the Citadel. He was still hurt and confused, but there was no way around it: Shepard was still his Commander, and he couldn’t help himself from falling in line, right behind her, as he had done so many times before. Sidearm in hand, he watched the perimeter while she walked forward, carrying the dead weight of the beacon. He knew better than to offer to carry it for her, but he stayed near, ready to rush in her aid if there were any need.

The area seemed clear. The scanners didn’t show any sign of activity, and neither did his visor. He relaxed just enough to pay closer attention to the wreckage around them. The Normandy lay in pieces: part of the hull in front of them, the cockpit to a side, and bits of what might have been the mess scattered behind them, near a lake of ice.

Shepard was still walking ahead of him, carefully avoiding the debris. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was the one thought he couldn’t shake off: she had _died_ somewhere near that place, alone and in pain. Her body had lain there, broken, among the ice and the shards of metal.

He looked at her for some measure of comfort; she was placing the beacon down, then she knelt beside it to activate the signal. He trotted to meet her, but his bones felt heavy and old.

“There,” she said, nodding at him. “What do you think?”

It was a good spot. Standing there, Garrus could see the whole span of the hull, and the letters painted there were an impressive sight.

“I think wherever you chose to place it would have been fine. But this is... This is good, Shepard.” His subvocals flanged, but he was almost sure she wouldn’t hear how much grief they were expressing.

 

 

Xx

 

She saw a glimmer of light near the right edge of the hull, some 200 meters ahead. She ran towards it, and found it was a dog tag. It was Pressly’s dog tag.

She asked for Garrus’s help, and in a few minutes they had found something that belonged to each of the crew members that was missing.

“Everyone’s accounted for,” she said, approaching Garrus, who was now waiting by the shuttle. “Even me,” she added casually, waving a cracked N7 helmet his way.

He just looked at her, shaking his head slightly. So much had changed between them, now she couldn’t read him at all.

 “I liked this helmet. I’m going to keep it somewhere in my cabin, I think,” she said, pushing the shuttle door open.

They stepped back into the shuttle, and the door closed airtight behind them. Shepard carefully placed the items they had recovered inside the empty crate, but secured her broken helmet inside a weapons locker. When she turned around and took off her working helmet, she noticed Garrus was staring at her, mandibles tight, his helmet under his arm. He looked hurt, defeated. She thought she knew exactly what that stare was about.

There was really no good time for this conversation. She wasn’t ready, not after seeing what was all around her, not after visiting her own grave. But he was there, alone with her, and at least they had been talking. It was worth a shot.

“Do you want to talk about what happened, Garrus?” she asked, sitting down. “There’s no rush to get back to the Normandy.”

He looked down at the floor. “I’m not angry at you…  anymore,” he said softly. Suddenly, he looked up at her, and his voice came out steadier. “But I _would_ like to know why you didn’t let me take the shot.”

He was still disappointed in her, and it was breaking her heart. Shepard pressed her lips together, trying to keep them from shaking. She got up; he took a step back.

“It was…” he cleared his throat. “It was not your choice, it was _mine_ ,” he said with a hiss, his eyes flaming blue. He took another step back, leaning into the shuttle door, and looked intently away from her. “I thought you respected me enough to let me make my own choice,” he added slowly.

She walked toward him, and he was cornered now.

“Garrus, I know. I’m sorry.” She couldn’t look at him, but she took his helmet slowly from his hands. “It was not my place to do that, and I was out of line.” Her voice was gentle and steady, as if she had practiced those lines in her head more than twice. She placed the helmet in the locker and moved towards the cockpit, but Garrus was not satisfied.

“Shepard,” he called before she could sit down. She turned around to face him again. “You didn’t answer my question.”

How could she ever answer that? If he knew _why_ , he’d know that she wasn’t really sorry. He’d know that she would do it again. And then, would he stay?

“Please, Garrus. It’s been a long day. Let’s just go home.”

He still stared at her, immovable.

She shook her head, and stepped towards him again. She was not okay, and her grip on her emotions started to give.

“ _Fine_ , you want to know why?” she said defiantly. “Because I would rather you hated me.” The tone of her voice rose along with her racing heartbeat. “I would rather you left the Normandy and I never saw you again, than let you turn into a cold-blooded killer.”

She paused to take a deep breath, unaware that she was now mere inches away from him, her body radiating heat into his personal space. She looked away. “I don’t want to lose you.” she said quickly. “But I’ll be damned if I let you lose yourself.” As she said this she noticed she was shaking, and tried to a step back.

Garrus caught her by the shoulders and pulled her towards himself. She stood paralyzed, still shaking, as he closed his arms around her. He had never held her before. Steady vibrations from his vocal cords ran through her body, and she found herself holding on to him, seeking to feel them more closely, to let them permeate her body until she was even and warm and safe.

She rested her head on his chest plate, her arms following as he collected her, carefully. He nuzzled the crown of her head, and now she could hear, not just feel, his subvocals. She slowly tilted her face up, with her eyes still closed; her nose brushed his mandibles, then his mouth plates, then the scarring on his cheek. She pressed her lips against his damaged skin, then kissed it lightly. She felt his mandible flare against her skin, and she kissed him there too, over and over, in a tremulous path toward his mouth.

 

 

Xx

 

Her lips on his face felt like nothing he had ever experienced before. They were incredibly soft, yet they burned a blazing trail on his skin. He was afraid to move in the slightest, to do anything that would make her stop. But when her lips met his mouth and did that thing, that entirely human thing he could never reciprocate, he felt a hunger rise from within him, and his subvocals shifted from a comforting hum into a growl. She didn’t seem to mind. Her kiss seemed hungrier now, too, and it was wet and there were hands running over his neck, his face plates, the back of his fringe. Her tongue ran cold against his mouth, prying it open, and he feared she would get hurt with his teeth, but it felt so good, so good. He ran his hands through her fringe and he wished he had taken his gloves off. How many times had he wondered how it felt? He could be feeling it now. But he couldn’t think about that, because her tongue had met his and her breath was shallower and her scent was almost enough to make a turian forget himself. But he didn’t, because after a few moments, she suddenly stopped.

“Garrus,” she whispered, panting into his mouth

“Hmm?” he uttered only a questioning tone, as he nuzzled her cheekbones.

“I don’t feel so good. I mean,” she added as she felt him recoil, “I do, this feels great but I… I can’t breathe.”

“You did take my breath away, for a moment there…” he said, staring at her lips. They looked redder than usual, and… swollen? Were human lips supposed to do that?

“Garrus…” Her breathing was still growing shallower, and she took a hand to her throat.

“Are you alright?” he asked, now definitely worried.

“Back to the Normandy,” she said, gasping for air. “Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys didn't mind a longer chapter this time! thank you for reading <3  
> And thanks to Rivie for editing all this cheese, ily


	5. Implications

Still struggling for air, Shepard put her helmet back on. After stumbling into the copilot’s seat, she set her suit to provide her with oxygen in a higher concentration than usual while she allowed Garrus to fasten her seatbelt for her.

Then, as he started the shuttle, she typed some words on her omni-tool‘s display for him to read:

  _Not a word of this to anyone._

“But Shepard,” he started, joining his brow plates, “I have to tell Chakwas to—

She couldn’t let Chakwas know. Karin was obliged by contract to keep records. Detailed records. There was no way she would let Cerberus hear about this. She interrupted him with a gesture, and typed: “ _Not Chakwas, Mordin. I got it. Just leave it to me.”_

He nodded, and the shuttle was airborne. She went back to typing another message.

_“Mordin,_

_We’re on our way back to the Normandy. I’ll need your assistance in my cabin immediately after the shuttle docks. I’m having a severe allergic reaction. I need you to keep this between us. Not a word to anyone. Thank you._

_Shepard.”_

In only a few seconds, she received a reply.

_“Need more data. Substance that triggered the reaction?”_

She replied quickly, trying not to think about it very much, because if she did, she might prefer to asphyxiate to death.

_“Turian saliva.”_

Her omni-tool beeped again, but she was too busy trying to breathe and stay conscious to read it. Her face was burning under the helmet, and her lips felt as if they were being slowly poked by needles. _Not again_ , she thought. _I’m not going to die here again._

Thankfully, they arrived back at the Normandy after only a few minutes; if her mind had been fully there, she would have noticed that Garrus had broken a few intra-system transit regulations and probably even a couple laws of physics to get them there that quickly. He opened the shuttle door for her, and she darted towards the elevator, still wearing her helmet. Jacob was sparring with a maintenance crewman from Cerberus, and both of them watched Shepard with interest as she left the shuttle bay.

She rode the elevator, not listening to EDI, who was most definitely saying _something_. She would have to talk to her later. Mordin was already waiting for her outside her cabin —maybe that’s what EDI meant to tell her?— holding a large leather bag; he followed behind as she rushed in.

She sat on her bed and unclasped her upper body armor, while Mordin helped remove her helmet. She had been relying on the extra oxygen, and now she couldn’t breathe at all. Mordin quickly jabbed a hypodermic needle into her neck; normally she would have objected to such a method, but the flash of pain was just what she needed to stay conscious. She noticed Mordin was silent. Maybe he had been all along, and what a strange notion that was…

He helped her lie down, propping her up on some pillows, then carefully placed a small oxygen tube beside her and strapped a mask to her face. She focused on breathing and trying to get her heart rate down; after a minute or two, she noticed that Mordin was still standing next to her, humming cheerily while typing into his omni-tool.

Slowly, she started to feel her throat opening up, and the burning sensation in her face started to subside. Whatever Mordin had injected into her bloodstream was obviously working.

She lifted her mask. “Thank you,” she said softly, and put it back in place.

“No need to thank me,” said Mordin, still typing. “Happy to be of service.”

Shepard decided to finally check the message that kept lighting up her omni-tool, since she was confined to that bed and had nothing better to do.

_“Interesting. Allergic reaction to dextro based compounds in humans rarely documented. Specific treatment still experimental. Need not worry. Salarian medical journals very mindful of patient confidentiality.”_

She had to read that twice to make sure her brain hadn’t been deprived of oxygen for too long. Experimental treatment? Salarian medical journals? Mordin had to be joking. He _had_ to. She removed her mask again, now seriously worried about what it was he kept typing.

“Mordin?”

“Do not recommend attempting to speak. Inflammatory process still active,” he replied, still not taking his eyes off his omni-tool.

“What’s this about experimental treatment? And don’t you dare write to any medical journals about this. I’m serious,” she said, trying to sound as menacing as any Commander might while half out of breath.

“Treatment can be discussed later. Only interested in countering anaphylaxis at the the moment.”

“Alright,” she said, only slightly less worried. “…And what are you typing?”

“Personal notes. Need to document patient’s response. Information vital to development of viable treatment,” he said impatiently.

“But I don’t want any experi—

“Must insist that patient remain silent,” he interrupted, this time looking in her direction, and then he scanned her from the head down with his omni-tool as he tooted to himself.

She stayed silent, and after a few moments she noticed her breathing was almost back to normal, although her lips were still aching. But unfortunately, having an almost properly oxygenated brain meant she could now process what had just happened.

She had kissed Garrus.

It had been perfect.

And it had almost killed her. __  
  


 

Xx

Garrus waited outside Shepard’s cabin, pacing, listening carefully for her voice. At first, he couldn’t hear it at all, and this made him increasingly worried; but after a while, she spoke a few words, and he felt the blood returning to his body. He stopped to think and focus his mind. Allergic reactions usually left no lasting damage in humans. He had seen it happen a few times during his days at C-Sec. Granted, none of the ones he had seen had been this severe… or caused by kissing a turian.

If he had hurt her… No, he shook that thought from his mind. Mordin was a good doctor. A completely mad one, too, but good. She was in good hands. Nothing to worry about. At all.

Oh, _Spirits_.

 

Xx

After what seemed like hours, Mordin finally emerged from Shepard’s cabin. Garrus tried not to seem too worried, but the tight position of his mandibles was something any respectable salarian scientist could read.

“Hello, Vakarian,” said the doctor, cheerily. “No need to worry. Patient will make a full recovery.”

“Uh, eh… that’s excellent, thank you, Mordin,” Garrus replied, and called the elevator.

Mordin hummed to himself for a moment while waiting, then he looked at Garrus as if he had just noticed he was still standing right next to him. “You may see the patient now,” he said, staring at Garrus in a scrutinizing way that made the turian uncomfortable. “Still, allergy not cured yet. Do not encourage further…. contact,” he added, pointedly.

Garrus felt a bit sick himself, as a rush of blood crept up his neck. “Eh… Don’t worry. I’m…” he cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he managed to add before the doctor disappeared behind closing elevator doors.

It wouldn’t hurt, he thought, to check up on her. He pushed the lock on Shepard’s door, and it opened right away. She was lying in her bed, propped up by pillows and covered with a thermal blanket, checking something on her omni-tool.

“Hi, Garrus,” she said, and the light from her omni-tool simultaneously went out. “Come in.”

“Hi… Shepard.” He felt as terrible as she looked. “You look… well.”

“I bet.” Shepard let out a faint laugh.

“I just… I wanted to know if there’s anything you need. I can bring you some food from the kitchen, or—

 “Come here,” she interrupted, and patted a spot on her bed, right next to her.

He hesitated. There was really nothing he wanted more than to be there for her, to comfort her in any way he could, but he still couldn’t help notice the glaring facts: this was his Commander, and her bed, and a woman he would give his life for, and another huge boundary about to be crossed.

She smiled, and he knew he was lost. That was her, Commander Shepard in all her glory, the strongest spirit in the galaxy. Her current fragility only made her more powerful; she would get her way, as she always did. He moved towards her slowly, but she stopped him before he reached her bed.

“No armor in bed. Rule number one,” she said, pointing a menacing finger.

 “Alright.” He cleared his throat. “It’s your ship, Commander. But be warned that I haven’t showered yet.”

“Yeah, what’s your stench gonna do? Kill me?” They both smiled, and he took a deep breath.

He stripped down to his undersuit, placing his armor carefully on the floor, then sat on the bed right next to her. Unsure of what to do next, he placed his hand near hers, where she could easily take it if she wanted to.

“Thank you,” she said, and instead of taking his hand, she curled up next to him as she tried to cover him with the blanket as well.

“No, thank… you.” He took the edge of the blanket, and covered some of his legs with it, but it was evidently too small for a turian. The bed was hard, and the room was all too chilly for him, but none of it mattered to him in the slightest.

“I’m alright, you know, it’s not really as bad as it looks,” she said, and rested her hand and her head on his carapace. He wrapped his arm around her and ran his fingers slowly through her hair; the silky strands under his finger pads felt so alien, so beautiful. He placed his free hand over hers, pressing it firmly in place over his heart.

They stayed silent for a few minutes, simply holding each other, and he thought maybe she had fallen asleep, but then she looked up at him with a sad smile.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just… hmm. Guess I never learn.” She propped herself up, so she would be sitting up, her head level with his.

“What, Shepard?” His subvocals flanged a note of discomfort at her change of position, since he could no longer hold her.

“I just _really_ want to kiss you again…” she said softly, biting her lower lip while she smiled. Even like this, disheveled and pale, she was the most beautiful thing in the universe.

“Well…,” he said with a wide flare of his mandibles, “I understand…”

“Stop,” she said, raising an eyebrow, which only encouraged him.

“I mean, look at this fringe.” He looked to the side and made a proud display of his bad profile.

“Garrus, stop!” she said, laughing.

“Lots of women _would_ risk death for a piece of this -”

“Are you really trying to kill me? Stop!” she cried out, with a warmth in her eyes that might have killed _him_.

“No,” he said, and brought her hand to his face to brush it with his mouth plates, trying to express affection in a way he thought a human might understand. “I’m sorry about what happened. Glad you’re okay now.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “You don’t have to worry. Mordin’s gonna come up with some sort of treatment for my—”

“He’s going to what?” he asked, startled. He was glad that Mordin had saved her life, but he still wouldn’t trust the salarian to experiment with Shepard’s health.

“Treatment,” she said, “for my allergy. Unless…” She cleared her throat, and looked away quickly. “Well, if you don’t think I should get treatment, I suppose I—”

“I do.” He interrupted, taking her hand again. “I do want you to get treatment. I’m just worried about… you know. Mordin. And… experiments.”

“Oh… yeah. Me too.” she said, looking back at him, pressing her lips into a half smile.

He didn’t want to think at the _implications_ of all this. But they were so compelling to think about. If she would put herself through Mordin’s treatment, whatever it was, only to be able to kiss him again…

“Worth a shot?” he asked, with high-pitched subvocals that would have been embarrassing, had she been turian and able to interpret them.

“Definitely,” she replied, and rested her head back on his carapace, curling up around his side again.

He started stroking her hair once more, and she made a tiny sound of appreciation that he found very distracting. After a few moments, she had fallen asleep. He stayed with her all night, vigilant of her breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! November is nuts. December will be better :)  
> Thank you for reading! <3


	6. Close to home

“Still awake?” she asked disapprovingly as she dried her hair off with a towel. Garrus was sitting on the couch and looking at something on his omni-tool, and not asleep on her bed as she had hoped he would be after looking after her all night. “Do I have to order you to go to sleep?”

He looked up at her and waved his omni-tool off, then he patted a spot next to him on the couch, mimicking her gesture from the previous night. “Come here, Commander.”

She smiled and sat down next to him, still working the towel through the ends of her red, shoulder-length hair. “What can I do for you?”

“How are you feeling?” he asked. He was still worried, she could tell. His worried face was one of the first ones she had learned to interpret, followed by the entire range that went from annoyed to murderous.

“Good as new. Whatever Mordin gave me worked great… and I haven’t slept this well in years.”

“Oh, so that’s Mordin’s work too, huh? Nice.” he said, raising a brow plate and crossing his arms.

She laughed and flung the towel at him. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Ouch! Okay, okay. Back to senseless violence, I see. Business as usual” He flung the towel back at her, which only made her laugh harder.

“Garrus, stop! I’m a sick woman!”

“You look  _ fine _ to me…”

“Course I do. But that’s not the point.”

“The point is… that you haven’t slept this well in years,” he said, and leaned back smugly, spreading himself all over the couch.

Shepard looked at him with fake outrage, while in fact she assessed his tired face and still-too-skinny body. “Well,” she said, standing up “it’s true. So it really would mean a lot to me if you’d get some sleep yourself, okay?” She grabbed her boots, sat on her bed and started lacing them up. “You can stay here for as long as you want. The shower here is great, you should try it.”

He cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

She huffed. “See you later, Vakarian.”

Xx

Shepard had been dreading the visit to Mordin since she woke up. But she needed to order some prototypes from the research terminal anyways, so she headed over there and hoped the professor would be too busy to give her much attention.

“Oh, hello, Shepard, glad you’re here. Things to discuss,” he said the moment Shepard entered the laboratory. Well, that was it for hoping.

“Sure, Professor,” she said, and approached his desk. “I’m feeling a lot better; thank you for your help last night.”

“Again, no need to thank me. Only doing job. Also, intensity of allergic reaction extremely interesting.”

Shepard chuckled. Leave it to Mordin to find her latest brush with death  _ interesting _ . “Glad to hear that. Now there was something you wanted to discuss?”

“Oh. Yes. Treatment for allergy extremely complicated. Genetic predisposition along with Cerberus’ intervention make physiology unresponsive to traditional approach. A more…  _ creative  _ solution needed.”

The word ‘creative’ leaving Mordin’s mouth sounded positively dangerous. Shepard cleared her throat. “What exactly are we talking about here, Mordin?”

“Genetic therapy. Only viable form of treatment. Would have to consult with Miss Lawson for details on cybernetic implants, of course.”

Shepard crossed her arms. “Oh no, no consulting,” she said, shaking her head. “I said this would be strictly confidential.”

“Cerberus technology highly classified. Could take years to decipher without Miss Lawson’s help.”

She took a deep breath. _ Years _ .

“Alright. Just let me talk to her first… and don’t discuss this with anyone else, okay?”

“Have my word,” the scientist said calmly.

“Alright, Mordin. Tell me more about this genetic therapy.”

Mordin’s idea was simple. For a Salarian. Which meant that Shepard understood very little, and had to ask repeatedly about the things she was really interested in: the treatment’s efficacy and the probability of side effects. The professor was optimistic; under this treatment, her tolerance to dextro compounds should increase gradually, and the side effects should be minimal thanks to her Cerberus-enhanced physical resistance.

She was still worried, of course, but the potential reward was worth it. What had happened on Alchera between her and Garrus could not be undone. Even though their feelings weren’t precisely in the open yet, it was obvious they could never go back to being only best friends. She wanted more from him, and she knew he wanted the same, and for both their sakes she hoped to the Spirits that Mordin knew exactly what he was doing.

She remembered to order the prototypes before leaving, and then she continued on with her rounds. Tali seemed busy, but she still asked her how she was doing, evidently concerned about her mental sanity after the trip to Alchera. Shepard gave her a few quick words of reassurance and moved on, thinking that maybe someday, when the time was right, she would tell Tali what was going on between herself and Garrus. If someone deserved to know, it was her.

Joker didn’t feel like talking, and he brushed Shepard off with some dark humor. As she left the cockpit, she heard EDI make an insightful remark about coping and defense mechanisms, but by now Shepard was not surprised. The Normandy’s AI was something  _ different _ , she could tell; she suspected that, not unlike herself, EDI was quite a bit more than Cerberus had bargained for.

Shepard glanced at the galaxy map as she strode past it to get to the elevator. They still hadn’t left the Amada system, since its five planets were rich in resources that the Normandy needed. There were still about 6 hours to go before they could set course to the mass relay, which meant there was more than enough time for breakfast. The conversation with Miranda could wait for a few minutes.

She sat down with an extra-large mug of hot, steamy coffee, and absent-mindedly started to check her messages on her omni-tool. The Alliance thanked her for setting the beacon in Alchera and requested that she deliver the recovered items at the Citadel. The rest of the messages were the usual: Cerberus assignments, thank-you notes, death threats. But as she was appreciating the smell from her cup —and the importance of a fully functional respiratory system— the light in her omni-tool blinked. It was a message from Samara, which was strange enough, since she had never contacted Shepard this way before.

_ Shepard _

_ I need to talk to you about an urgent matter. If possible, see me in the observation deck soon. _

_ Samara _

Shepard finished her breakfast quickly and rushed to see the Justicar. This promised to be interesting.

Xx

“Interesting,” said Miranda, raising an eyebrow as Shepard stepped off the restroom changed into a tight black dress. Shepard was grateful they were in a rented room in Omega, and not aboard the Normandy where  _ everyone  _ could see her.

“Shut up, Lawson,” she growled, adjusting her straps. She felt uncomfortable, naked. It had been years since she had last worn a dress, but she understood the need for it. Not only she was supposed to blend in with the nightclub crowd, she had to look —and feel— somewhat vulnerable. Like bait.

“Yes, Commander,” Miranda said with a sly smile. She picked up something from the floor and handed it to Shepard. “Don’t forget your heels.”

Shepard huffed and took the pair of black stilettos from her XO’s hand. She sat on the bed to put them on, then stood up and walked around the small room. The shoes fit perfectly, which wasn’t surprising… Miranda had  _ rebuilt  _ her body after all; she was more than qualified to shop for her clothes.

“Thank you, Miranda,” she said. “This will work.”

“Of course it will. You look absolutely stunning. And you will have support the whole time.”

Shepard nodded. She turned to the mirror and checked her makeup one last time. She was glad to notice that the scars on her face were barely visible under the foundation. They had been fading for a while now, like Dr. Chakwas said they would. It was a small victory to look in the mirror and see something that resembled the memory she had of herself. Of course, she looked a bit older and a lot more tired, but entirely Shepard. She applied a bit more lipstick, just for fun. A color like that, she was probably never going to wear it again.

Satisfied, Shepard closed the lipstick case with a click. Miranda was sitting on the couch, checking her omni-tool.

“Samara is still 10 minutes out. So I guess now we wait.”

Shepard was glad. She had brought Miranda along hoping she could talk to her alone and away from that intelligence central that was her office.

"Good. I wanted to talk with you for a minute,” said Shepard, as she sat on the bed across Miranda.

“Oh, what about?”

“I need to ask you a favor. Something personal.”

Miranda nodded.  “Shepard, after what you did for me and my sister, you know you can count on me for anything.”

“Thank you,” said Shepard, earnestly. “It’s  a medical matter. I have this allergy…” She noticed Miranda frowning. Of course, she had to be puzzled; dextro compounds intolerance was something Cerberus would never have tested her for. “I guess no one has caught it before now. Mordin is working on a treatment for it, but he needs your help, since I have all this Cerberus tech, and you’re the expert…”

“May I know what kind of allergy it is?” Miranda interrupted, still frowning.

_ Oh, crap. _ Shepard thought. Somehow being half naked at this particular moment wasn’t helping at all.

“Dextro compounds. I was… exposed recently, and it fired a huge allergic reaction.”

Miranda’s frown disappeared. “Oh. I understand.”

“You do?” Shepard asked, surprised.

“Shepard, I was there with you when Garrus took a missile to the face. I saw how you reacted,” she said. “I think even someone without genetically engineered intelligence could have figured that out,” she added smugly.

“Oh, well then. Good.” Shepard said quickly, as she got up and pretended to fix her hair in front of the mirror again. “So please, see Mordin as soon as you can, and you know… keep this between us—

“And Mordin, and Garrus, of course,” Miranda interrupted, but quickly dropped the subject as she noticed Samara was coming inside.

The Justicar had taken every precaution as planned: everything was ready for the Ardat-Yakshi trap, and only the bait, namely Shepard, was missing.

“Okay,” said Shepard, giving a sad glance at her armor stacked on the bed. “Here we go.”

Xx

Back at the Normandy, Shepard lay in bed, looking at the stars out the overhead window. She wasn’t hungry, so she skipped dinner, and now she couldn’t sleep. It was the image of Samara ruthlessly executing her own daughter that Shepard couldn’t shake off. She knew the Ardat-Yakshi was a monster, but what about unconditional love?

What would Captain Hannah think of her if she knew how Cerberus had brought her back? Would she believe her a monster, too?

She sat up on the bed staring at nothing. If the Alliance knew she was alive, Hannah knew as well, and still she hadn’t contacted her. She probably thought that Shepard had faked her own death to go work with Cerberus, like Kaidan did. It was probably for the best.

The door of her cabin opened. It was a welcome sight.

“Hey, Garrus.” She got up, and walked towards him.

“I heard you wore a dress today. And I wasn’t there. I’m very hurt, you know,” he said as he handed her a paper bag. She looked inside, and found an assortment of pre-packed meals and some juice boxes, both dextro and levo.

“I will  _ actually  _ hurt you if you bring up the dress again,” she said as she made her way to the couch, then she started laying down the food and drinks on the table.

“Tell me you still have it,” Garrus said in a low voice from behind her, with a hum of his subvocals that made Shepard bite her lower lip. She turned around.

“Yes, and I will use it to kill you. Sit down.”

Garrus’s mandibles flared wide as he sat down. They ate quickly and without further death threats; in fact, Shepard slowly made her way into Garrus’s arms as she finished her meal. She rested her head on his carapace.

“What’s bothering you, Shepard?” he asked softly, brushing her arm with a still-gloved finger.

“It’s that obvious?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Well, you’re usually eager to talk after a mission. Something about this one went wrong?”

Shepard nodded and sat up, with her elbows on her knees and her back to Garrus.

“No, it went okay. We did just what we went there to do. It’s just…” Shepard felt the pressure of Garrus’s hand on her back, and turned slightly to face him. “It was brutal. And it made me think of my mom.”

Garrus’s mandibles tightened. “I’m sorry. You must miss her.”

“I do. I haven’t heard from her, so I guess she wants nothing to do with me anymore. You’ve heard what Alliance types think of me.”

“Um, please don’t compare your mother to Kaidan Alenko,” he said, and pressed his brow plates together.

Shepard laughed bitterly. “No, you’re right.” She relaxed again on the couch, her side pressed next to Garrus. “She’s a lot smarter than him. That’s why I’m also scared that she knows the truth. The truth is not pretty either.”

Garrus took her hand, and his vocal cords started to vibrate in a steady hum. “The truth is that you’re alive. That’s all that matters.” He brushed her forehead with his mouth plates, in a tender kissing gesture that almost made her kiss him back.

“You should try writing to her,” he said.

She frowned at the interruption. “And say what?”

“I have no idea. That’s why I haven’t spoken with my dad in years, either.”

Shepard squeezed Garrus’s hand lightly. “You should speak with him, too. This mission...”

“I know,” Garrus interrupted. “Same reason why you shouldn’t wait for her to contact you first. She doesn’t know what we’re about to do.”

He was right. Shepard got up and sat by her terminal. She typed a few words, and sent them out. She figured if she was going to do it, she had to do it quickly and as painlessly as possible.

“There. It’s done.”

Garrus had cleared up the table, and was standing near her holding the empty packages. “Good,” he said. “Maybe you’ll be able to sleep now.”

“I think I will,” she nodded. “Are you going to bed too?”

“Yeah. It’s late, and to be honest, if Captain Hannah might call, I’d rather not be here. I’m sure a rogue turian vigilante is not something she wants to see in your bedroom.”

Shepard smiled. “She’s not gonna call. But go on, get some rest.” She ran her hand down his arm, too afraid to kiss him, but unwilling to simply let him go. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Will you be wearing that dress?” he asked as the door shut behind him, and the red light of the security lock flashed bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Chapter 6! It took forever to edit into publishable shape, I really need to thank Rivie here for all her help.  
> And thank you for reading!


End file.
